Sells to be a Slut
by Aggravate.the.Axe
Summary: Ever wondered what made Amber Sweet Amber Sweet? Carmella Largo, a girl of ten, wonders why she has no friends. After a quick look at her life, she realizes it's time to change. But, of course, her eldest brother is always there to ruin it. R&R Please! 8D
1. Not Mayonnaise

"Brother, will you play with meeee?" Luigi could only think of how wrong this sounded as his ten-year-old sister, Carmella, danced around him, chanting the words.

"I will _not_," he mumbled, untangling her from his leg. Didn't she know by now that he didn't _play_? At least…not in the way she wanted.

"But…but…" The girl's eyes got wide and tearful, her bottom lip sticking out. Luigi winced, giving in only slightly.

"Go…find Pavi! Play with him." Not the _best_ idea he'd ever had.

Carmella's face twisted in disgust. "Pavi's weird, and his room smells funny! Guess what I found under his bed last time I went in there!" She grinned, excited about sharing her gossip.

Luigi crossed his arms. "I am really bus—"

"Mayonnaise! A whole lot of it, too!" she cried, throwing her arms up for emphasis.

He cleared his throat, about ready to throw up. _Not mayo, not mayo_, was all that was running through his head. There were many things wrong with Paviche, including his tendency _not to clean up_.

"You know what," Luigi said decidedly, turning toward the door, "I'm going now."

His sister gasped, grabbing his arm. "But brother! This is a gross injustice!" _Gross injustice?_, he thought. _Only someone as nerdy as her…_

He spun around, stooping to her height, their faces quite close. "Get yourself some friends!" he snapped, yanking his arm from her grip and stomping out of the room.

Carmella plopped down on the floor and began angrily picking at the rug. Nobody ever wanted to play with her, not even her father. Everyone was always so _busy_. Pavi, fucking his Genterns; Daddy, always at work (especially since Marni left); Luigi…busy doing whatever it was he did all day. Perhaps she didn't want to know. She silently thought about what her brother had said and realized, with horror, that it was true—she had virtually no friends.

The girl stood up and walked down the hall, hands stuffed in her lacy dress.

Stepping into the elevator, Carmella looked up at all of the buttons, and pressed her floor. After a short ride, the doors opened and the numbers 2 and 5 blinked above the door. Someone stumbled in, all giggles, almost running the girl down. She quickly realized that floor 25 was where Pavi had been all day, and now there was someone with him.

"Hi, Pavi," she chirped, watching him and the long-legged Gentern for a moment.

Her other brother looked over, startled. "Oh, you're-a here." A grin spread across the sixteen-year-old's face—not yet masked by someone else's.

Carmella nodded. "I was going to my room…"

"What a coincidence! I was-a just going to-a _my_ room!" he cried happily, his grin never faltering. His sister frowned, turning to the door, and Pavi continued to make out with that day's catch.

She exited the elevator straight away when they reached the top floor. With her gone, things would ensue that no little girl should have to see—not that she hadn't before.

Her room was a disgrace to the Amber Sweet she would become. The bed was neatly made, her bookshelf was actually used, and a thick book labeled _Business Science_ was lying open on her desk. The dolls in the corner were all put away, and each one of them looked completely normal. She was confident that she would inherit GeneCo, which her brothers so often fought over. Rotti was proud of her, but setting his sights mostly on his eldest; all that was getting in the way was the guy's sky-high temper.

Carmella stepped into her room slowly, cautiously opening her closet. Instead of the clothes that would call it home sixteen years later, the closet was filled with modest dresses, jeans, T-shirts…nothing skimpy in the least. Until now, she had not noticed how different she was from the Genterns, or the women on TV—and she was. And _that_ was why no one wanted her.

Something had to be done about that.

**A/N: Yes…this is my first Repo! fic since discovering it last November. Is that sad? Well, I suppose I've been busy. Anyway, I decided to have my first one be about Amber because…well, I think she's interesting, frankly. She's not my favorite character, though I like the Largos as a rule, but I've always wondered what made her be how she is. I decided to find out for myself…and this is what's happening O_O Hopefully, this story won't be too long. It'll revolve around Luigi/Amber mostly…and **_**not**_** largocest XD I don't mean like that. You'll see.**


	2. Crazy Times at the Car Wash

**Thanks for all the great comments, guys! 8) As a reward, Luigi throws coffee in your face and slaps your ass. Have a nice day!**

"_IIIIIIIIIIII'm…!"_ Luigi Largo pulled his ascot around his neck and began to tie it, "…_oooon top of the world and looking down, down on creation—" _He was having a surprisingly good day; he hadn't even killed anyone—though maybe that was a bad point, "-_and the only explanation I can find-!"_ The young heir cut off when he noticed someone in his doorway.

He turned his head slightly, frowning. Whoever was at his door, he hadn't called for, and that was a bad thing. "Oh. Carmella. Why are you…" his hands slowly fell from his ascot, turning to look at her. His little sister had on a skirt that showed off her legs.

"Yeah?" she asked, as though nothing were wrong.

Luigi blinked a bit and stepped forward. She was wearing a wig too. "Why the fuck are you…?"

"What?" she asked immediately. "Is there something wrong with me? Do I _offend_ the eye?"

"Less than usual..." He squinted at her. "You're wearing eyeliner."

Carmella rolled her cold eyes. "So is Pavi!"

Luigi spread his arms in confusion. "Yeah, but he's a fag! You're, like…not!"

She crossed her arms, locking her left leg defiantly. "I'm a chick. I'm _supposed_ to wear eyeliner, doofus."

He barked a laugh in her direction. "Doofus? Is that the best you can come up with?" He reached out and grabbed her by her bright blue wig, crouching down so that they were at eye level. "Would you like me to take you on a little trip to Daddy?" he asked, wearing a smarmy grin.

"What!"

"I'm sure he'd be interested to know that you're wearing a wig!" He shoved his sister into the hallway.

"I'm sure he'd also be interested in this!" Carmella held up something, just out of his reach. It was a picture of him, sloppy drunk, doing something he certainly didn't remember.

"Uhhh…" he started, eye widening slightly. He slowly mouthed, "_What…the…fuck?"_

Carmella just giggled, looking up at him. "Blackmail is a girl's best friend, brother. The poor people at that car wash will never be the same."

"Fine. The car wash saved your ass this time around, sister, but this _isn't over_." He slammed the door and then looked back at the mirror.

She had nice legs…

Carmella cursed quietly when the door was shut in her face, turning and walking back down the hall, back to where she came from. Her room looked like it had been torn up by some kind of animal; books strewn everywhere with pages ripped out, her dolls cast to one side, some missing their heads, others with marker all over them. She'd tried to make them look different—to change them…to give them surgery. Dolls were dolls, though.

She kicked the desk chair and opened her closet to finish the job. Down came jeans, frilly shirts, and dresses…the only semi-revealing clothes she could find were a tank top that she'd grown out of and some very short jean shorts. She groaned in agony. "What is _wrong_ with me?"

Carmella continued her rampage, forgetting that her father could look in on her whenever he chose. She was far too busy to think about that now.

Rotti Largo loved his kids. Most of what they did disgraced him, and they weren't exactly what he'd asked for, but he loved them all the same; especially Carmella. She was five times smarter than Pavi, and could keep her head, unlike Luigi. The girl wasn't involved in anything disgusting either; she just enjoyed learning about business and how to run one. All in all, he wished he'd had her first, so he'd have _someone_ to give GeneCo to that wasn't a complete nutjob.

"Mr. Largo," one of his henchgirls said, after getting a quick call on her wrist phone, "Luigi's being brought in again."

Rotti grumbled something in reply, setting down his papers and looking toward the doors to his office, waiting for his son to enter. He eventually did, followed by two very stern-looking GENCops. "What is it this time?" his father asked flatly, looking at the police.

"All I did was kill one guy, Pop, _one guy, _and these fucking _idiots_ thought it'd be a fabulous idea to bring me in!" Luigi snarled, flopping down into his chair and crossing his arms indignantly.

Rotti sighed, looking from the Cops to his son. "I'll take care of him," he told the two uniformed men, waving a hand dismissively. They nodded, holding a straight face, and turned around in perfect synchronization, walking out. After a period of silence, in which son looked nervously at father, expecting to get punished, Rotti finally spoke.

"Luigi Largo," he muttered, looking at his son with a glare, "what the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

"Er…I don't…know…?" Luigi shrugged, giving an unsure grin. The look of guilt on his face was that of a small child."

"I ought to disown you," he said calmly, looking back at his papers.

"Shit," Luigi muttered, and then corrected himself, "Er, I meant…shoot."

Rotti did not answer, just sifted through his papers. The awkward silence was almost unbearable for his son; he glanced at the henchgirls, hoping to see some sign that they were on his side. They did even look back. _Is this how he's punishing me? Putting me in an awkward situation…?_ "Well, uh, you know, I'm not the only one who you should be punishing," Luigi finally said.

"What do you mean?" his father asked, not looking up.

Luigi smirked and said, "Carmella's wearing makeup—oh, and a wig. And I can see her thighs."

"What?" Rotti almost fell over. His ten-year-old, perfect daughter was dressed like a common streetwalker? It was inconceivable.

"She just came to my room and showed me," he said, shrugging. Now the focus was off what he'd done, and onto what was wrong with his sister.

His father pressed a combination into the keypad on his desk and spun round in his chair, looking at the screen behind him. Carmella's room popped up on the screen—Luigi smirked. They both watched as little Carmella popped the cap off a pen and began to give one of her dolls cosmetic surgery. Rotti winced and looked away as his little girl carved the face with the tip of the pen. She seemed to be entranced, squinting in concentration, trying to get the features perfect. Finally, after watching her for a few minutes, Rotti shut off the screen.

"It's just a phase," he concluded.


	3. A fuckin YEAR

**Am. So sorry. So, I haven't updated this in like a year, and I'm sure no one gives a fuck anymore. Lawl. But it's summer, and so I have a lot of time on my hands… I will update. I forgot how much I like this story. Shall we onward?**


End file.
